You can never have too much of a same thing, or so the saying goes. We’d like to argue that as we’ve had a tough time trying to select a winner for Poem of the Week.
Before we reveal the winning poem, let’s take a look at the fantastic efforts which scooped second and third place.
3rd Place
‘Go’ by Shamik Bhattacharya
I wanted to go,
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Therefore I couldn’t.
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I stayed,
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Too long for this to happen.
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What have we done to each other?
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Keep calm.
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No need to panic.
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Everything will be all right.
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A little blood spilt here and there.
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Love is suffering and yet,
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There is a pleasure in all this we do,
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To keep our broken mirrors with each other.
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So that once in a while,
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We live our lies,
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More fully more daily,
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In our memories,
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We leave together or we don’t leave.
Do you understand me?
2nd Place
‘First Date’ by Cassandra Dallett
I got his number at the tire shop
my home girl had hit the curb hella hard and fucked up her rim
I got the white boy’s number who worked there too
but the brother called right away.
I left my baby at home girl’s house
and he picked me up
we drank in his trunk tilting paper cups
and telling war stories down by Van Ness
after sandwiches at Tommy’s Joint
we went to the new theater
sprawled the front row seats through Ronin.
Later on we made a run to the Avenues
and dropped a sack at a cheap motel
cutting back through the Presidio
the truck filled with blue light
we got pulled over right outside the gate.
He looks at me
I look at him
he throws something out the window
and pulls into a parking place.
The cops take him over to the curb to question him
he starts to rub his stomach
tells them he feels sick
leans down into sprinter’s position
and he’s gone.
The cops run off after him all leather-belt radio-belly
and I’m just sitting there
alone again in a streetlight puddle
it’s cold in the white Bronco
the white rocks in the street
and here I am
out the house after dark
I got a babysitter
and I’m on a first date.
1st Place
‘Why I Drink Whiskey’ by Ashley Parker
i drink whiskey because
after so many
shots
something like a dragon wakes up in my stomach
and crawls out my throat with the exhalation of cigarette smoke
i drink whiskey because the dark brown
mingles with the fire in my veins
and the wild south of my soul is reawakened —
a part of my soul that lingers between the brick dust x’s on marie laveau’s grave and alleyways in the french quarter of New Orleans
stirs up like a ghostly collection of downy feathers
and the fear that is carved into my ribcage seeps out
i drink whiskey because the salt of my fingers plays
with the back of my throat
coaxing all this fear out, chased with mason jars of water
i drink whiskey because it makes me feel ugly and fierce
because it makes it easier for me to burn bridges and sever ties
i drink whiskey because it makes being used by men with pretty faces and holes in their dead chests easier to swallow
i drink whiskey because snarling rage needs to be let out sometimes
i drink whiskey because it sobers up my head
i drink it because it helps me forget that i didn’t say no
i drink it because it makes me angry about what you did
what she did what my grandfather did what I’ve done
i drink it because i remember the way your hand pushed mine down and the way your hand curled into a fist in my hair and yanked at the top of my dress
& mostly
i drink it because i didn’t tell you no
In Ash’s own words:
My name is Ashley Wade Parker– I live in a shed…no, really. It’s a shed.Â
At the moment I am occupied as resident Manic-Pixie-Nightmare at the local bakery I call home and heart. Between fucking around with herbs and plants (for medicinal reasons, I promise) and burning bridges,I write these poems. Usually on napkins.
Want to join Ashley as a winner of Poem of the Week? Click here to find out more.
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